


The Magnus Records 010 - Fae Finder

by ErinsWorks



Series: The Magnus Records [6]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Magnus Records
Genre: AU where the entities are nice and the world is awful, Alternate Universe, Brief description of a very gorey scene. Nothing graphic though., Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinsWorks/pseuds/ErinsWorks
Summary: In another world, one filled with slaughtering fathers and inept judicial systems, perhaps there would be creatures determined to keep a smile on your face. Perhaps the quest of one Trevor Herbert to remove them from the world would do more harm than good.Here at the Magnus Sanctuary, London, we will find out.Start your interview. Share your hope.
Series: The Magnus Records [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1497773
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	The Magnus Records 010 - Fae Finder

**MAG010 – Resident ████ – “Fae finder”**

**KEEPER**

_ <<The recorder clicks on. Sounds of rustling, a stack of papers thumping audibly against a desk.>>  _

Tim did it. The madman finally did it. He managed to break one of the damn locker combinations we hadn’t already found in the pages. I’m not sure how, and from the look he had when he handed these over to me, he wasn’t sure how either. Says he doesn’t really remember  _ what _ he did, just that he got it open. This will be the first interview I read that Gertrude Robinson didn’t delicately intend for me to.

_ <<KEEPER laughs to himself. He is far too excited to read this.>> _

Interview of “Trevor”… Regarding the importance and effect of his career in… fae finding. Original statement given July 10th 2010. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Record Keeper of the Magnus Sanctuary, London.

Interview begins.

  


**KEEPER (INTERVIEW)**

Just put down _ Trevor,  _ alright? I know I’m supposed to give you the full name and all that, because of the  _ “confiding secrets” _ , but trust me… just the name  _ Trevor _ is dangerous enough as is. The more information you give these things, the more  _ control _ they get over you. Trust me, it’s not like they actually want to use you for anything  _ dangerous, _ but… Well. That’s the reason I’m here, isn’t it? I’m here because I’ve spent my life protecting the world from them. I’ve dedicated my life to finding the Fae.

They go by other names of course. The Faeries, the Sylvan, the Otherworlders, the Elfin, occasionally Goblins, the  _ Fae-with-an-A-and-a-E... _ and of course “ _ Fairy”s-with-an- _ I _ -and-a- _ Y. I’ve elected to call them the Fae. It lets me have some amount of dignity in the fact that I’ve decided to spend my entire life protecting people from their influence.

I’ve found five people that were completely under their thrall, prancing through life without a damned care in the world. I’ve found two more that I was able to save- to return to the land of the living- though I will admit that they were… Less than thankful. And I found one who, no matter how benign these creatures claim to be, vanished into the woods under their control. I know, I know, numbers that small are difficult to justify an entire lifetime of work against. But the fact of the matter is that the Fae have any manner of ways of…  _ confusing  _ people. Ways that I’m sure would tear the world to pieces if there weren’t others like me. And, considering the recent diagnosis of late-stage lung cancer… soon there  _ won’t _ be others like me.

I witnessed my first Fae in 1959, I think. At that point I was still living a mostly normal life, barring my father’s frequent abuse of my family. He was an awful, awful man, and ended up  _ slaughtering _ my mother in 1956. He’d dismembered her, nailed her limbs to the wall, and the grotesque display stayed there for quite some time until my older brother reported it. Unfortunately, even though the man had never spent a  _ dime _ on us or the family, it turned out my father was quite rich: He was able to buy his way out of punishment. Because of that, the next few months were… less than pleasant. It only ended four months later, when my brother ended it prematurely. He came sprinting down the stairs one night, grabbed me, and told me to  _ run  _ with him out to the woods, out to the little cave in the woods. He’d packed days of food and kindling, and we ran like all hell. And it went like that for some time, the two of us occasionally heading out of the woods to beg on the streets for food and warm clothes. But my brother made me  _ promise _ never to share my last name with anyone, for fear that we would be sent back to our father.

That promise would save my life.

It was in autumn of 1959 when Lady Sylvana MacDonald offered us a home in her estate. I don't think we had done anything in particular to draw the beast's attention. We had simply wandered too far into what must have been "her" woods. We came upon a massive wooded manor, a rustic palace of browns and greens, where the sounds of string and reed music played with some… joviality. I'll say this, if it was meant as a lure, it was an effective one. When the elderly woman welcomed us in, with her velvet crown and her flowing dress, I believed I was having a rather odd fever dream. We accepted nonetheless and followed her inside.

Allow me to make some things clear about the fae. They are social creatures, and tend to group themselves with others of their kind, congregating in grand parties. The music and the singing, the warm light of fires from within a home: those are the signs of a fae's presence. I understand that may sound pleasant but… alright, I  _ admit,  _ it  _ is  _ pleasant, but… that doesn't mean the fae aren't  _ dangerous _ .

You may have heard that, in order to express their full control over you, the fae must have your full name: first, middle, last. That, unfortunately, is yet another lie of folktale. Once they have your first name, you become easy pickings to the beasts… and god forbid you give them your last, because then your will is forfeit. A fae with your last name draws you right on in.

If there is any consolation among their mannerisms, it is that they only seem willing to leave their homes at twilight. Thus, all my real work of Finding is conducted in the evening.

This brings me back to how they managed to take my brother. See, in the dancing and the singing, we'd both found a false sense of security. We were both  _ just fine  _ with giving this nice woman and her friends our first names. My brother- his name was Nigel- even told her our last name. But I petulantly insisted to him that a promise was a promise was a promise, and that  _ I _ couldn't tell them my full name, as I promised I never would. They'd just have to do with Trevor.

That was what guaranteed it. It guaranteed I'd never fall into the beasts' hands and paws and hooves.

When they brought out the feasts, that was when I started to see it. I was struck with the food, so much so that even through their hazes and charms, I could sense the supernatural's obscuring influence. I could tell something about it was too good to be true. You see, the meal was a balanced diet, a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables and meats. The fruit was the sweetest you ever tasted, the vegetables made you feel like a sheep happily grazing, and the meat… The meat was… off. It wasn't  _ wrong,  _ no, not in the way any  _ food substitute  _ i s wrong, it was just… not meat. It tasted like no animal on earth. 

Before you ask, no, it was not  _ human meat. _ It was simply…  _ unearthly.  _ The ham of the heavens, if you will.

I don't know what instinctual force of will pulled my eyes up from my plate, but I saw it then. The velvet crown Lady Sylvana wore was no crown at all. It was a delicately woven set of  _ antlers,  _ like a deer's. Her fellows had similar sets of horns, beautiful and elegant and  _ animal.  _ I stared at them in awe, before the manor's window caught my eye. A deep orange shone through, as though it were still sunset. As though not a moment had passed since we had entered the manor a twilight.

I got up from my seat. I shook my brother, told him that we had to leave, that he was under their spell. He looked at me, confused as all hell. He asked me… he asked me why I  _ “wanted to ruin this.”  _ There wasn't anything to ruin! It was all one of their tricks, Robinson. It was all one of the Fae's deceptions, you must believe me.

Because he didn't.

And he's still sitting there, to this day, I know it. Still joined in their…  _ wretched  _ party. Having a life of… Meaningless fun. I don’t… I don’t understand why he didn’t leave. But I did understand that I could never let this happen again, do you understand me Robinson?

I’m sorry. I’m sure you understand.

I found no small share of fae since that time, seeing as I knew what to look for. They follow most of the tales, you know. The mushroom-circles, the holes in the ground, the trails that aren’t man-made, all the standard stuff. You just need to follow them in, and then send them off from there. It’s nothing violent, don’t worry, you just have to disturb them enough to make them go away. Works a trick, really. Best I can tell, the first time most of them have experienced any measure of discomfort is when I storm in with a broom and a megaphone.

… Yes, yes I’m serious. My tool against the evil of this world is a cheap megaphone that runs through battery packs every 5 hours, is there something you have to say about that, Miss Robinson? No, no I think not.

But the danger of the Fae must be clear. They're trying to do to the whole world what they've done to my brother, keeping them  _ happy,  _ and  _ passive  _ and  _ docile.  _ To what end, I can't be sure, but they'll go to whatever means necessary to do it. Sure, they'll solve your problems, sure, they'll promise you companionship, but… what's the price you have to pay?

Besides, just picture a world where everything was like this! Where everything was  _ happy _ and  _ contented!  _ Nothing would get  _ done,  _ damnit! Nothing!

The reason I'm coming to you is… well, to be frank, I've started dying. And I can't have that. Because dying means I’m getting weaker. And weakness means it’ll be easier for them to take hold of me. I need to stay here, under the closed eyes of The Secure, where I know they can’t get me, because if they see me it means they can get me and if-

  


**KEEPER**

… If what? If  _ what,  _ Trevor?? What will happen??? What the  _ hell  _ is  _ The Secure? _ Why is it  _ capitalized? _ Why are the lines blacked out, why did you come here, what’s going on, just… please, just… just…

Just tell me...

_ <<The recorder clicks off. There is silence. Then, it clicks back on. The KEEPER's voice is far more tired.>> _ _ _

Recording resumes. Trevor Smith, as I will call him until I can deduce his last name, appears to be absent from our medical records. I was previously distressed to discover that the end of this Interview appears to be entirely absent- blacked-out by pen- leaving it rather unsatisfyingly cut off. I have made my best attempts to discern the typewriting beneath it, however, I have been largely unsuccessful. However, there is a note at the bottom, which I will now read.

_ “Jon. If you are reading this, let it be a lesson in what happens when you let fear and paranoia guide the use of your talents. We see great things in you. Please, don’t prove us wrong. - Gertrude.” _

…

End recording.

**Author's Note:**

> Feeling good about this one! Unfortunately, even in a world with Benign Entities, some people under their influence are determined not to accept help. Tragically for him, Trevor is one of them.
> 
> Jon doesn't like Interviews being cut short. No Keeper does.


End file.
